Six Days Later You Got Shot
by looks the same
Summary: Set after Jane got finger happy and shot herself. Maura wants couple's counseling. Jane reacts, well Jane reacts as Jane would react. Maura/Jane relationship assumed. Jane POV. M rating for language and smutty thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

_**Six days later you got shot, shot yourself, whatever**_

**A/N: ****Story assumes relationship. Takes place after season one finale. TWO PARTS. Written some time ago, will post second part tomorrow. Possibly considering continuing it after that...Hm? Oh, and Byron. Forget about him which I'm sure we all already have. Rating is for language. Enjoy :)**

* * *

It's been seven weeks. Seven weeks since you came back to life which, is a little awkward. It's especially awkward being that nobody has mentioned to your face the part about you having been dead. And you know for a fact that Maura was in that ambulance with you. Plus you can read and you can most definitely read your own medical file, which clearly points out that you, Jane Rizzoli, were dead for exactly three minutes.

The chart you snagged once you could sorta move about and your normal stealthy self had kicked back in strung together the details you had lost. You remember hits and misses after deciding that shoving a gun in your stomach was the only way out. Not that you regret it, you don't. You knew you had a better shot of surviving if you could place the bullet to your choosing.

People assume you did it for everyone else. That you did it so that Frankie could get help. You did it so that Frost and Korsak didn't have to watch the snipper attempt to take out Marino and possibly take you out with him. You did it so that a stray bullet didn't accidentally kill Maura. Or your favorite, you did it for justice.

And maybe these are all true. Maybe. You're not so sure.

You haven't told anyone but really, really you just did it for yourself. You refuse to be a victim again. You refuse to live in fear while another person hunts you down. You won't do it. You will not live your life waiting for someone else to come along and scar another part of your body. You'd rather shoot yourself first. _Clearly_.

But this is the part you do remember. Struggle. Placement. And then that sound. The pain took its time. But the crack of that shot, it was so final. Deadening. Like your life was vocalizing its loss. Then there was a lot of noise that probably should have been a whole lot louder than it was. You remember Maura's face swimming in and out of your vision, her voice going in and out with it. You remember wondering what the big deal was and why the paramedic kept saying that there was _so _much blood.

And you remember wanting to correct everyone. You tried, several times to tell them that they had it wrong or at least they were leaving out a really big part. It seemed every medical personnel from the sidewalk to the hospital seemed to be really into mentioning that you shot yourself. Which you did but come on! They were saying it then like maybe you had lost your shit and already you were dreading having to explain that one since it might have been just a little bit stupid.

But right about at that point is where your memory ends _ends_ and your chart picks up.

Cardiac arrest upon entering the emergency room. You were defibrillated quite a few times in which your chart mocks your health with no improvement. Then apparently your heart gave out all together. That's the dead part. Three minutes. And nobody talks about it and if you know Maura she was either there to see it or at least stole your file long before you did. You'd like to brag a little that you died for a bit and yet your brain seems to have come back just fine. That's impressive.

Yet you can see your mother looking at you after a comment such as that like _really, really it came back just fine?_ Frankie would probably roll his eyes and change the subject. Vince has seen you emotionally dead so maybe mentioning to him you were dead dead, not so helpful. Frost wouldn't get it or he'd pretend he did just to please you and so really that leaves only Maura. She'll probably have some science crap that explains how you are not Wonder Woman but you still might be able to get a little smile out of her, possibly an admission on the slight cool factor.

But Maura has been weird lately. Weirder than normal Maura weird. She went back to work only two weeks ago, which you find odd. You got shot. Shot yourself, _whatever_. Why Maura took time off makes no sense. Sure maybe when you were in critical following your surgery or while they were all waiting for you to pull your shit together and start breathing on your own. Taking off time then, that makes best friend and current girlfriend sense. But that only adds up to about a week, give or take a few days. Fine, _give_ a few days. Nine days says your helpful chart.

You shift your body on your couch wincing and cursing slightly at the pain. Your hand grabs at your cell from between the cushions and you speed dial your girlfriend. You grumble as you settle back down, dropping your open phone onto your chest so that you don't have to hold it to your ear, waiting for her to pick up.

One ring and then Maura's voice come hurling at you through the speakerphone.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"You have to stop answering like that Maur." You roll your eyes even though she can't see you. You hear her hold her breath for a beat before she responds, her voice calculated.

"Of course, Jane. How are you?"

"Just peachy. And bored out of my mind. Especially bored since I have roughly eight hundred and forty hours tell I can even try to petition the surgeon into clearing me for work."

"Hm." Maura's voice is so obvious. You roll your eyes again for good measure.

"What Maura?"

"Nothing. I'm glad to hear you've been keeping with your walking and stretching exercises. Obviously it's having secondary effects."

You don't feel like fighting Maura in her clearly not saying what she wants to say so you go for the next best thing. "What?"

"Studies have shown that stretching or even something as simple as wiggling your toes activates nerves that stimulate your brain and internal organs. Walking has shown to improve cognitive abilities which you proved with your multiplication calculations, Jane."

"Maura!" You wince again as you bark into the phone.

"What? I chose my words very carefully this time. I said, _wiggling your toes_, which I thought would be most clear. I could have been more accurate and said—"

You close your eyes for a brief second while she goes off about what the study actually said, using a whole bunch of words that make you tired. Finally she takes a breath on the other line after she makes the connection yet again between your math skills and your physical blah blah blah so you slip in. Not that cutting Maura off has ever been something you've shied about from.

"Maura, I used a calculator."

Pause. Beat. You can practically see her trying to understand that, her hand probably poised over a dead body, scalpel in hand.

"Well, having to get up and find a calculator took some exertion I'm sure."

You laugh to yourself, deciding not to tell her that you used your phone and that you haven't gotten off the couch since you dumped yourself there early this morning.

"So what are you doing?" You ask because Maura will immediately jump into talk about whatever body is lying on her table and you need the distraction.

Her voice goes harder to hear and you bet she's stepped away slightly to peer in some microscope thing. "I'm not talking to you about work Jane. You have to focus on getting better."

"Maura! Come on!" You slam your body back to its flat position after lurching up in frustration and doubling over in pain.

"I'm going to hang up the phone if you keep doing that."

"Doing what? Keep asking you about work?"

"Doing anything that causes you too much pain Jane. I can hear the unevenness of your breathing, a typical sign of nociception."

"Excuse me?" You're too tired and maybe a tad cranky to even attempt to pronounce her dumb words.

"Nociception. The neural processes of encoding and processing noxious stimuli." She ends and you stay silent, knowing you've trained her to decode. She sighs and then does just that. "Pain, Jane."

Since you aren't allowed to chuck your phone across the room since your breathing might give you away, you swallow your attitude. "Fine. Want to come over when you're done today?"

"Sure. Does six o'clock work for you?"

"Hm, I'm not sure. I might be busy." Your voice is sarcastic which you forget Maura won't pick up on, especially over the phone and without your facial blah blah to give her a hint. "I have to activate my nerves so I stimulate my brain around six."

"Seven then?" Maura never lets you down. It's pretty endearing.

"Six is fine Maur—"

And with that you give her your order for Chinese take-out, tell her to just let herself in with her key and hang up to take a nap.

* * *

You wake up to find a blanket neatly tucked around you and your coffee table cleared. You blink in confusion as your eyes sweep the carpet where you swear you had flung the wrappers of some tacos you forced Frost to bring you last night. You struggle to sit up as you catch the time.

"Maura?" You clear your throat and try again right as she comes into the room.

"How was your nap?" She asks it as she folds herself neatly onto the couch at your feet.

"You cleaned?" You eye the room.

"Uh no. It was clean when I got here. Didn't you clean?" She takes a sip of her wine, stem perched between her fingers. You motion for her glass but she pulls back giving your bottle of Vicodin a pointed stare. You nod your head pretending to misunderstand her and grab the bottle to shake out your dose.

You hold the pill in your hand before motioning again for her wine glass.

Maura huffs at you as she hands it over. "That's not what I meant. I meant you shouldn't drink alcohol when you're on prescription pain killers."

You pop the pill in your mouth and take a swallow of her wine. "I know." You hand it back to her as you flash a smile and sit fully upright, smile turning into wince. "And no, I didn't clean."

"So you didn't go to the grocery store because your refrigerator is fully stocked which is was not this morning when I left for work."

"How would I have gone to the grocery store Maur? I can barely move. My mother must have stopped by." You scrunch your face at that; clearly your detective alertness skills are fading fast.

"How's your incision?" Maura sets her glass down and starts to fold the blanket so she can place it on the back of the couch.

"It's fine." You protect yourself from what you know is coming.

"Well if it's fine than let me see it." Maura places her fists on her hips as she stands and stares down at you.

You grumble a bit but then raise your t-shirt to expose your bandages. Maura drops one knee onto the couch as she peers at your torso, her cool hands finding purchase on your skin. You wince out of habit of anyone getting close to your bullet hole.

"Does that hurt?" She presses lightly on your ribs, her hands not close enough to the wound to bring pain.

"No. Your hands are just cold."

"Oh of course. I forget that a live body can detect changes in temperature." She trails her fingers up to your bandage and peels back the edge while continuing to talk.

"When's the last time you changed your dressing?"

You mumble out a reply in which she picks her head up and looks at your face, passively waiting for you to repeat yourself.

"I don't know, two days ago when I took a shower."

She knows you're lying since she keeps an eagle eye on your incision and your supply of bandages. She leaves to go grab the pile of supplies and what not off your counter. She comes back and positions herself over you again as she starts to remove the bandage wrapped around your torso. When she gets to the actual bandage, she peels the tape off which stings your skin a little.

"Would you like me to dress it so that you can shower now?" She doesn't make eye contact as she finishes removing it so that your incision is visible. You crane your neck down so you can see its badass-ness. Except your surgeon did a hell of a job even if he is an ass and the scar already is looking better, pain aside.

Maura scoots closer so she can see the incision more closely and then asks you to turn so she can see the exit wound also. In your shift your face somehow ends up right in front of Maura's chest. And in typical Maura fashion her pretty blue top gapes open at this angle giving you a clear shot of her lacy clad breasts.

"Jane?"

You tear your eyes away to see her looking at you.

"Ah, what?"

She raises an eyebrow just slightly that you probably wouldn't see if she wasn't so damn close.

"I asked if you'd like to take a shower." You're grateful she doesn't comment on your pointed stare, the two of you having slept together exactly two times, the day before the shooting which was only six days into the relationship. Not getting to go down on Maura is definitely the worse part about shooting oneself.

"Ah, no. I'm good."

Finally she leans back and crosses her arms, staying silent. She then eyes your hair, which you are certain is greasy even if you did try to hide it by pulling it into a ponytail.

"Fine."

Maura nods her head and immediately starts to wrap your abdomen in water-proof bandages. You jump again as her fingers seal your incision in. She then takes the cellophane and asks you to stand so she can wrap your ribs up. You hold your t-shit so she has room to work, trying to still cover your chest as she winds plastic wrap around you before announcing that you're good. You start to head towards your shower when her voice stops you.

"Where are you going Jane?"

You turn to face her. "Ah to the shower?" You jerk your thumb over your shoulder towards your bathroom.

"But you're going to sponge like you're suppose to. No immersion." She says it like obviously that is what you will be doing.

"No." You say it slowly because girl is confusing you. "I'm taking a shower. You said shower Maura."

"I meant sponge." She nods her head and smiles at you. You frown back.

"How am I suppose to wash my hair then?"

She pauses at that, her face now also confused. "Well how have you been doing it before now? After the first week home you told me you didn't need my help anymore."

You raise your eyebrows at her, pretending you didn't just get busted. "Ah, dry shampoo." You say it just to watch her eyes bug out which they do. You laugh. "Kidding, I can do it myself. I'm good."

"Jane." Maura says it like a warning.

You sigh, damn yourself for slipping. "Ma has been helping me." You say it quickly, praying for some reason she won't hear it and then you wait.

When Maura doesn't say anything, you wait a little more, your gaze on the floor.

"Oh." She says it really softly and full of hurt. You snap your head up.

"No, no. Not like that. I liked it when you did it better. I just-" You try to figure out the best way to say this without embarrassing yourself.

Maura is still taking it the wrong way. "You don't need to explain Jane. I understand. A mother's comfort is something that can not be replaced."

"What? No!" You wave your hands at her, physically pushing that reasoning out of the way. "Maura, I was having my mother do it since when you were, you know, sponging me, it kinda left me- _you know_." You look at her, desperate for her to get it and then drop it.

Of course that doesn't happen. She looks at you with her widely innocent eyes, head tilted. "Left you what?"

You purse your lips and then kinda talk out of the side of your mouth like the two of you are in public. "You know, _turned on_."

And finally the light bulb goes off as her eyes lift and her mouth parts. She's just about to smirk or smile or something but you narrow your eyes at her and tell her to shut it.

With that you start to walk back to your bedroom and you can hear her following you, at least you haven't lost all your stealthy skills.

"Maura!"

"No, it's can do it. I'll just stand here in case you need anything." She leans herself against your doorframe as you cross to your dresser to locate a clean sports bra, shirt, underwear and sweat pants. You go to close your drawers, which are made of heavy wood and the exertion of closing them makes you grit your teeth. You glance up at her through a stray greasy lock. She is exactly where you left her with exactly the same face on.

"Fine. I need help." You say it as you grab your stuff and stalk to the best of your abilities towards the bathroom. Maura follows but then asks you is she can borrow some of your clothes to change into so she doesn't get her dress wet. Maura has a ton of clothes here at the moment, but you rather not figure out why she wants yours and so you wave your hand over your shoulder to tell her to go ahead.

When you get to the bathroom you are a little out of breath as you start to undo the knot of your current sweatpants. "No making comments about how bad I smell okay." You shout it towards the bedroom.

Maura giggles as she appears in front of you wearing a tank top and a pair of loose running shorts that she has rolled at the waist.

"Jane, I've been sleeping in your bed with you since you got shot."

At least she's kind enough to not actually say the words, _you do smell_, to your face. She grabs the plastic container your mother has been using to fill with soapy water. She fills it and adds some nice soap that you've never seen before as you struggle out of your pants.

"Why don't you sit on the edge of the tub." Maura says it kindly as so not insult your out of breath-ness.

"Grah." You refuse to be completely incompetent by continuing to stand as you struggle to get your t-shirt off which only sends searing pain down your side. "Ow!"

Maura's face floods pity at your pain but decides to comment instead on your first exclamation. "Did you just growl at me? You tend to only do that when I go down on you."

"Maura! One rule! We have one rule. And the rule is no talking about it when I'm in no position to do anything about it."

She nods her head as if committing that tidbit to memory. "Right." Then she smirks as she watches you continue to wage war on your shirt.

Maura sets the bowl down and comes over to help. You let her pull the fabric off of you, biting your lip when you have to raise your arms. "I'm going to buy you some shirts that are inexpensive so that we can just cut them off of you." Maura says it as she folds your dirty t-shirt and sets it on top of the closed toilet lid.

You sit on the edge of the tub finally giving in when you almost sway too much and bitch-slap the tiled floor. You are just in your panties and sports bra but your Vicodin soaked brain is suddenly too heavy to attempt modesty. Maura redoes your ponytail so that it isn't in the way as her last comment finally marinates in your mind.

"Oh yeah, and how much are these shirts you're thinking of?"

Maura starts to tell you what a great sale some expensive brand you've never heard of is having when you start to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" Maura stops her movements as you wince and laugh at the same time, the movement sending jolts of pain down your side.

Maura grabs her bowl of soapy water and dips the soft sponge loofah like thing into it as you get your laughter under enough control to attempt an explanation.

"Nothing, it's just ridiculous. Me. You. You having to wash me. It's a really awesome beginning to our relationship."

Maura giggles too as she starts on your arms, holding one limb out with one hand as she pushes the sponge over your skin and up to your shoulder. She takes her time, alternating between soapy lavender smelling stuff and clean warm water. Maura moves to stand behind you, her bare feet in your tub and you lean back to settle yourself against her legs.

Maybe it's the lavender. Maybe it's the fact that it feels good to be clean. Maybe it's the fact that Maura hums to herself as she runs the loofah over your stomach. Maybe it's the fact that you've been alone all day and for the first time you aren't bored. It might possibly be the fact that your tank top and running shorts have never looked so good slung over Maura's body. Or maybe and this is the big one, your painkillers are finally kicking in.

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"You should probably take your bra off now."

Your head snaps up at that. "What? No. I'm not having you wash my boobs Maura."

"Perspiration that occurs naturally under the breasts can cause yeast infections if ignored."

"Excuse me!" You pull away from her and look over your shoulder, your good arm gripping one boob in protection.

"It's perfectly normal Jane." Maura looks at you like she always looks at you but then you lean in closer to peer at her face where a spec of a smirk is hiding.

"Not funny Maura." You attempt to punch her stomach in retaliation but change your mind when your arm refuses to catch-up with your brain. "Besides my boobs aren't big enough to sweat." You say this because it's true.

"I'll be the judge."

_And then there's that_.

You should _Maura_ her and change the subject. You two have already gone down this road. Maura gets too cautious and treats you like some featherless, vulnerable baby bird and you tend to grit through the pain because she feels so good until it's suddenly too much and you start crying.

It's not cute. And really there isn't any way around it. Anything Maura does sends your abs tightening and the fierce pain is never too far behind. And anything you do to her just makes you insanely wet and batty with rage since you can't do anything about it.

So you should change the subject in order to protect yourself. But right now you aren't that far gone, you aren't dying to finger yourself. Right now you are just dying to kiss her so you just continue to look and then you smirk and then you talk.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

And then Maura does one of the things you love most. She tips her head back and laughs. This really carefree gutsy laugh. She doesn't do it often but when she does it's painfully contagious and screams comfort and ease.

And the two of you are right on the line. You know it. She knows it. You both know it won't end well but then Maura leans over you, the loofah abandoned in the soapy water, her hair already falling into your face. You smile as she gets closer. You wait for her to come to you, her eyes slipping from your eyes to your lips. And when she's almost there, she pauses, waiting for you to come the rest of the way.

But you just smile and make her do it. And she does.

Maura kisses are intense. They're thought out without feeling calculated. They're full of intent. There is never any just going about it as you try and find a rhythm or filling up space until it moves onto other things. Maura kisses you like she won't ever get the chance to kiss you again. She demands you do the same and you always hop to.

"You taste good." Maura says it right as she flicks the clasp of your sports bra. It's strapped onto you so it doesn't spring off but message has been sent.

Sent and delivered.

And you are about to just say screw it, maybe pop a few more pain killers and demand she lets you come in her mouth.

But then Maura's senses come back and she pulls away, apologizing profusely.

You growl again but tell her that no, it was your fault and just like that, spell is broken. At least for the moment. She runs the sponge over your back a few times before nodding her head. Maura disappears into the kitchen to grab a chair, which she places against the sink, sideways so the back isn't in anyone's way. You sit on it as she towels you off quickly. After she removes the band holding your hair back, you bend really slowly so that your hair falls forward and so that your side doesn't split into two from the pain.

Surprisingly it's not too bad.

Maura gets the temperature just right before running her hand along your bare back, low and along your spine to indicate that you should lean a little more. She wets your hair before squirting some of your shampoo into her palms and starting to work it through your locks.

"You should buy better products Jane. You have such lovely hair."

You snort at her back-handed compliment. "I like this one. It smells good and it's two dollars a bottle so I can use as much conditioner as I want."

"I guess I should just be happy that it isn't two in one." Maura grumbles as she massages your scalp. She moves closer behind you so that her front is pressed up to your bare back. Her fingers find purchase at the top of your neck, rubbing and scratching while you almost pass out from the goodness of it all.

After she rinses and lathers your hair up with cheap conditioner she shuts the facet off.

"Ah Maura. You have to rinse it out too."

"Give it a moment to sit Jane."

"Maybe that's how the fancy stuff works but here in my bathroom you just run your fingers through it, rinse and go."

Maura just laughs again, softly and you feel her breath against your neck. And then you feel her lips as she starts to kiss your shoulder, making their way across your back. But then suddenly Maura is no longer touching you.

You peer under one conditioned wet lock that is falling across your upside-down cheek to see where she is. Maura is sitting on your closed toilet, looking at you. Like really looking at you.

"Ah. Hi?" You say it because you're thinking maybe she's been talking and you just weren't listening, too caught up in her hands on your scalp or her breath on your neck.

"We need to talk Jane."

_Okay_.

"Right now?" You motion with your good arm at your sink, your hair, her, you.

"Yes, right now. When you can't run away or fake sleep or turn the volume of the game up."

You look at her, hard. Girl is _not_ messing around. She sits there, staring really intently at you before finally dropping her eyes and looking at her hands.

"Okay." You say it so that she has the go ahead to talk. You want to get this over with before your neck cramps the fuck out.

Maura stays silent.

"This is the part where you start talking Maur." You are very impressed with the logical sense you are making right now, Vicodin soaked brain be damned.

She finally tears her eyes away from her hands and meets your eyes.

"I'm worried about you."

You start to interrupt because you don't want to hear it from anyone, anymore. But Maura puts her hand out to stop you and Maura only does that when she's super serious, so you shut up. You look back down into the sink so your neck doesn't officially die on you.

"I think you should talk to someone. Actually I think we should talk to someone."

"What? Like a shrink?" You jerk your head up, sprays of conditioner catching the mirror, pain ripping through you. "Fuck!" You grip your abdomen as Maura immediately comes up to you and wraps her hands over yours, protecting your side. You breathe as the pain slowly fades, until it clears and you can think about what she said.

You take a shallow breath and force your voice to be as calm as it can be as you repeat yourself. "Like a shrink?"

Maura finally lets go of your body and sits back down. "Yes."

"Seriously?" You can't help but let a little of your normal tone snake in.

"Counseling can be very beneficial Jane."

Maura isn't Googling you right now which means one thing. She's too serious to even get lost in her normal detailed and science-y explanations.

"You want us to go to couples counseling?" You say it once more just to make sure you really do understand.

"Yes."

You pause, hoping she'll come to the obvious conclusion you've already come to without you having to say it. She doesn't so finally you talk.

"You want us to go to couples counseling even though we've only been dating for two months?"

You eye her as she responds.

"Yes, we've been dating for eight weeks. You got hurt seven weeks ago." Maura is just making statements. Statements that clearly you know. Sure, somewhere in there you died for a few moments. Sure, somewhere along the way, you shot yourself. But you're not stupid; you can do a timeline.

"Uh huh." You stall for time to try and figure out what her brain is doing because clearly it isn't doing what yours is doing. "And that means we need therapy?"

"Jane." Maura looks at you even more pointedly. Your wide eyes probably give away that you are now only more confused. So she decides to spell it out for you. "We started dating eight weeks ago."

She pauses and waits for confirmation from you. You give it to her. "Yes."

"And then seven weeks ago you got hurt."

Beat. Pause.

"Yes."

She sighs. "So we were dating for all of six days when you decided to shoot yourself Jane!"

_Oh right, that_.

"Maur⎯" You start to talk but she cuts you off before you can even attempt at rambling your way out of this, attempt at maybe just trying to explain to her what you're feeling, were feeling, _whatever_.

"I know! You did it for Frankie!" Maura stands, her outburst rendering you silent for the moment. She comes up behind you and slaps the water on and pushes your head under the cold water. You flinch at the temperature but Maura doesn't move to change it. She's probably forgotten again that you are a live person. She scrubs at your head a little ferociously as she continues to ramble.

"I know all that Jane. Korsak told me how you screamed at them, telling everyone how Frankie was injured and inside. And it was brave! It _is_ brave! But as you and Marino were out front, the morgue had already been invaded by SWAT through the back. Frankie was already on the way to the hospital, whether you shot yourself or not. And I know you, Jane! You know that's how protocol works. It was obvious that you were the last thing they had to use as leverage. The rest of their defenses were gone. And then you shot yourself! Six days after we started dating!"

Maura says her final piece just as you start to raise your head to correct her, declare you didn't know that Frankie was safe. She just tightens her grip on the back of your neck and forces your head further under the water. You squeeze your eyes shut, to avoid water flooding them. And then the water is snapped off and suddenly your head is engulfed in a towel. She rubs at your hair, drying the strands like they're stains on her favorite blouse. Then the feel of the towel disappears and you hear it being tossed onto the floor before her bare feet make slight sounds on the tiled floor in exit.

You pull your neck back slowly so that you are siting upright. You glance at the mirror briefly to rub a smear of conditioner off your cheek. _That was a little intense_. Even more odd than Maura's outburst is the discarded towel not hung up, you eye it hoping for answers. Finally you pull yourself up off the chair and go to find her. You are thinking it might not be such a good idea to mention to her your cool, _I died_, thing right now, ah _ever_.

She eyes your approach from her standing position in your kitchen, her forearms resting against the counter, making her body kinda jet out. She grabs the chinese take-out and plunges a fork into it and starts eating her vegetables.

You grab your own fork, piercing a piece of chicken. "Make the appointment. I'll go."

She opens her own mouth in disbelief, swallows as if to respond. You hold a finger up to silence her from across the counter.

You finish chewing your food before responding. "For the record. I did not shoot myself because I was freakin out over dating you." You loop some lo mein around your utensil.

She goes to interrupt again but you keep talking. "And I'm only going because clearly this all makes you a little bonkers." You hook your thumb over your shoulder to indicate her display in the bathroom.

You pause to look up at her, anger flashing across her features. Maybe calling your girlfriend bonkers, not such a good idea. This time the good doctor does succeed in trying to interrupt.

"Well add to the record that I feel hurt by your description of me when I'm dealing with a painful experience." You roll your eyes at Maura's words, _therapy_ words.

"Fine." You say it like you're three years old, surprised you aren't stomping your foot in protest. Instead you swallow some more dinner.

"Fine." At least Maura matches you in tone. "Appointment is tomorrow morning at eleven." Maura stares at you, daring you to blink. You throw your hands up, not believing she went ahead and scheduled it without consulting you first. A few stay pieces of vegetable land on the counter.

Maura just continues. "Anything else you want to say?" She pushes off the counter and grabs a bottle of water from your fridge, draining part of its contents. She starts to pack the food back up, removing the containers from in front of you. You toss your fork down in defeat.

"No." You say it because you can't think of anything clever and in the small pause of speech, you've decided you are dreadfully tired. You turn on your heels and stalk back to your room but before you clear the doorway, you whip around once more and point at her from across the room.

"I am not paying for it!" You slam your bedroom door with as much force as your weak side can manage before staring at your body, still clad in your underwear and half-way detached sports bra, cellophane still clinging to your upper torso.

You grumble over the fact that Maura probably didn't take you at all seriously, dressed how you are. You grab your clean clothes out of the bathroom and before you can punch a wall in frustration because the pain of dressing yourself is gonna suck, Maura walks in.

She doesn't say anything and neither do you. Instead she strips off her own clothes, well your clothes on her body that are a little wet-ish from the sponge bath. You watch as she pulls out a pair of gray silk pajama bottoms and tosses her legs into them. She rids herself of her bra and tugs on one of the pale pink tank tops she sleeps in. Then she walks over to you and starts to remove your sports bra, replacing it with a loose t-shirt and unwinding your plastic wrapped bullet hole. She grabs the cloth bandages that go over the actual bandage and wraps your ribs up like a pro. Your girlfriend then hooks her thumbs into your panties before pulling your sweats up your legs, not even bothering to put you into clean undies.

You huff at that but she just leaves for your bathroom where you hear her brushing her teeth. You are about to crawl into bed when she reappears, electric toothbrush in her mouth as she slaps your own normal toothbrush, paste squeezed out on top, into your hand.

You roll your eyes as you start brushing, holding your side at the movement. After a minute you go into the bathroom, tapping your foot impatiently behind her when your approach to the sink is blocked by her body. She glares at you through the mirror before spitting her own mouthful out, rinsing and spitting again. Then, instead of moving to the side like she normally would do she flips the warm water on and before you know it girl is washing her face while you stand behind her with a mouthful of toothpaste.

You growl to the best of your abilities before turning around and heading towards your kitchen where you finally can spit. You snap the lights off in the kitchen, check to make sure the door is locked before returning to the bedroom. Maura is turning your bed down, a bed you clearly remember leaving unturned this morning when you stumbled out of it. You toss your toothbrush into the bathroom, hearing it clatter against the sink, earning a slight scowl from Maura. You slip the bedroom lights off and climb onto your side as she does the same on her side.

The two of you lie there, not touching for all of one minute. Then at almost the exact same time you uncross your arms from where they were planted around your stomach and she shifts on the mattress.

And just like that, Maura is scooted as close to you as she can be. She tucks her body into your good side as she lifts her head for your arm to sling underneath her neck. Her head lands softly on your chest, body angled so she isn't on top of any part of your wound. Your free hand gathers hers and tugs it across your hips to lie on the other side of your body, among cool sheets.

You huff a little into her hair, signaling just a little bit that this is so not over. She makes an agreeing sound in the back of her throat.

And tomorrow you're doing couple's therapy. Tomorrow you will definitely yell some more and most likely so will she. Tomorrow you will be forced to talk about your feelings and other outrageous shit. Tomorrow you will probably end up bawling since Maura's sad face tends to be directly linked to your tear ducts. But that's tomorrow.

Tonight, tonight you will sleep with the best thing that's ever happened to you wrapped around your body.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Six days later you got shot, shot yourself, whatever**_

**A/N: Part two. One of my favorite pieces and thinking it might be interesting to wind this around to current timeline within the show. Thoughts? **

* * *

At seven Maura's alarm goes off. Twenty seconds later you hear her hand make contact with the device, the silence somehow louder than the actual noise. A few minutes after that is when she starts to attempt to shift out from underneath you.

Throughout the night the two of you have relocated so that Maura is lying flat on her back, you know her pretty hair is spilling out onto the pillows like it always does. You imagined the first time you and Maura slept in a bed together as a couple that it would be like all the times before. You would stick to your side, often still clad in your clothes from the work day, gun on the nightstand. Maura would wake in exactly the same position you left her in when you closed your eyes and drifted into dreamland. You pictured Maura to be tame in her sleep, often like she was in life.

But as well-mannered as your girlfriend is in most things, you know it doesn't always fit across the entire Maura scope. The intense and frankly _athletic_ sex that the two of you had before the shooting was not at all shocking. Maura was vocal, seemingly shameless as she had every right to be of her flawless body. She was upfront about her needs, her words never shying away from telling you exactly what she needed, exactly when she needed it. She had no qualms crawling up your body to stare at you, both of you having gotten off twice, and then telling you that she wanted to do it again.

Sex with Maura is liberating. Crazy intense and almost demanding. You imagine that might fade with time, but a part of you is almost certain that it won't and it makes you glad.

People assume Maura is a simple girl, obviously insanely bright but other than that just, _even_. Maybe had an easy life, definitely having an easy life. You know better. Maura is one of the most intense and complicated people you've ever met. Some days you get lost just kinda looking at her face, watching her watch the world. You know a lot of advanced details go through her mind almost constantly, but there's also something else. Maura is a person who is in awe of all things. Maura is a person who has passions that are fierce.

Your mother made a comment once about how Dr. Isles had more sense than you in that her job was relatively safe yet still important. But Maura didn't choose her job because it was safe. Maura is just as invested as you are in catching bad guys, if not more. You didn't have to sacrifice your way of life in order to become a cop. Maura, Maura gave up everything she knew.

So while you knew Maura would be mind-blowingly hot in-between the sheets, sometimes you too get caught up in assuming she'll be calm and collected in other ways. And before you were together, that belief held true for how she slept at night, how you slept at night, how the two of you slept at night.

But this morning is like every morning for the past eight weeks that you haven't been in a hospital bed. Your girlfriend's body lies diagonally across the sheets, one foot hanging off an edge. One arm is flung towards her alarm clock as if she positions it there in order to kill the sound as soon as possible. One leg in bent so that her bare foot tucks behind her other knee. You wake to find yourself literally hugging Maura's torso. You are using her side to prop part of your body up so that your wound isn't making harsh contact with anything. You face is buried into her stomach, cheek against soft skin from where her tank has ridden up in the night, arms clinging around her. You own wild hair spills across her, the locks now dry and slightly crazy. Maura's other hand is tucked beneath the stretched out collar of your sleep shirt, palm resting firmly between your shoulder blades. Maura and you sleep like you've just done battle. Wonderful, wonderful battle.

So you can't really help but whimper when she has to get up. You don't want to lose her warm presence and it makes you smile to know that before when you dreaded getting up it was because you hated leaving the comfort of your blankets, now, now it's her. So while she attempts to shift into a sitting position, you cling on tighter, burrowing more deeply, insisting that she doesn't move.

You hear her hoarse giggle from above you and you smile into her skin. Then you start to shift too but only so you lie more completely on top of her, pinning her to the sheets.

"Jane." She says it since she knows she should, says it because she has to go to work, says it like she doesn't really mind.

"Hm." You mumble it this time against her throat, you hands finding hers and locking your fingers together before raising yourself a little to kiss her. She tilts her head to the side so your head can rest on her shoulder, your mouth tugging at hers without much effort on your part.

It's languid and slow and warm.

"I have to go to work." She mumbles it out against your lips.

"No." You mumble right back before resuming.

She gets lost in you for a few minutes before she lets out a harsh groan and starts to actually dislodge herself. You let her go, flopping into the warm crevice her body left in your bed. She leans over you and pushes your hair off your face in order to kiss you on the corner of your mouth.

A few minutes later you hear her shower start and it lulls you back to sleep. A while later, after you've ignored the faint sounds of Maura leaving the bathroom, Maura walking into the kitchen, Maura preparing her breakfast, you hear her reenter the room and open your closet. Your eyes are squeezed shut, hoping you'll fall back asleep but then the sound of a hanger as it lightly hits against another forces you to snap your eyes open. Because this part, this part you definitely don't want to miss.

You watch her from your position on the bed, curls tumbling across your eyes so that you feel like you're undercover, invisible. She slides her robe off her body and walks cautiously to the bathroom to set the lightweight material back on its hook because Maura is trying to be quiet, is trying to let you sleep. She reappears and you only get a flash of the good stuff before her back is to you again as she opens the drawer and selects her garments for the day. You edge up a little on your pillow as she pulls out a black thong that is edged in a pretty pink, sometimes you do like pink, and slips into it. You know exactly what is coming next. She selects the matching strapless bra that goes along with it and fits it around her torso before sliding it around.

You make a little noise to distract her, instantly snapping your eyes shut because when she looks she will think you just shifted in your sleep. It works like a charm and when you squint one eye open she is now facing you as she finishes pulling her bra into place. Maura lifts one of her perfect boobs to settle the cup against her and then moves to do the same for the other. This time you can't help but moan against the sheet. Her head whips up to look at you and your eyes pause too long on her creamy chest.

Her eyes flash at you in delight for a brief second before you slam them shut. _Busted_.

She stays silent and finally you get the courage to look again. She is back at the closet as if she didn't catch you peeking at her. You are just about to think that maybe you are just that quick, that much of a good cop to not have been caught when Maura bends over to pick nothing up off the floor.

_Oh, this game. _

This game you just happen to love.

And then Maura starts to stretch which is definitely not where that part of her routine belongs. When Maura stretches it's always on whoever's bed you slept in, her limbs still clad in pajamas, sleep still lingering on her face. It's just another reminder that you and she are so very different. While Maura wakes and immediately pulls and pushes gently on her limbs, preparing her body for yet another day, you tend to groan and burrow deeper into sheets, wishing the day would wait just ten more minutes.

Yet right now is not that. Right now Maura is being a little tease.

God you love this woman.

She still has her back to you, her very bare back with just the strap of the back of her bra to taint her flawless skin. Maura stretches her arms over her head, lengthening her torso to impossible lengths. She turns slowly towards you as if she's giving you plenty of time to continue your pretenses of faux sleep. You smash your face harder into the sheets, thinking it might appear that your eyes are closed even though they are wide open, hungry. Maura does not make eye contact as she tugs on her elbows over her head.

Thighs are parted slightly, that scrap of lace between her legs only adds to the illusion. With arms still lingering above her body, her stomach ripples in slight muscle, skin tight, breasts pulled high. Maura is a freakin wet dream.

Then comes her palms which slide over her body as if she's invigorating her skin but then suddenly they drop. She turns and starts to step into some dress. Then quick as a flash there is turquoise material covering all your favorite parts. You watch her step into her pumps before she flips her hair, pulling at the strands that got caught under dress. Maura grabs her purse off the small nightstand-ish table that she put next to her side of the bed when she decided she was spending more nights in your bed than hers. You make a mental note to buy her an appropriate piece of furniture.

The idea of buying something for your home so that Maura wants to stay longer makes you smile against your drool soaked sheets. Then suddenly you see her shadow as she bends over you and kisses your head.

"I left the address on the table. I have your keys so don't even attempt to drive with all that Vicodin in your system. Appointment is at eleven, don't be late _sweetheart_."

And then she's gone. You hear the door close behind her as she leaves your apartment long before you can comprehend or even remember the whole conversation and compromise that went down last night.

You growl into your mattress, hit your fist once against the sheets before you pull your body up. You stumble through your room, pushing wild hair out of your face. You see that Maura left the coffeepot on warm with enough heaven inside for a cup. The mug that Maura made for you on one of your first official dates sits next to the coffee. The two of you had been walking around downtown taking in the fresh night air trying to figure out what date-like things you should probably be doing even though most the time you both just preferred to lounge near couches that were conducive to spontaneous making-out. The pottery and paint store had been an intended joke when Maura had squeezed your hand and pointed at it. But it was perfect and full of laughter and you had eagerly pulled her in, ignoring her smiling lips at your sudden personality change.

You pour the joe into the cup, growling at the cute but insanely stupid dancing bunnies. You attempt to growl again for good measure but the memory of Maura, lip between teeth in dedication, bending over her mug as she painted on the scene, flashes through your mind. She was giddy with laughter when she had finished, pretending to be interested in your equally as dumb plate with caution tape painted along its face. She had told you that no, it was very nice even if you had spelled caution wrong. _Damn Maura and her distracting perfect calves_. Then she'd about lost it in delight when she showed you the bunnies on her mug along with the zoo sign behind them.

You had gotten it right off. You're a cop for a reason and your memory is stellar. But Maura had explained and recounted that conversation about bunny pancakes when the two of you had gone to your mothers for breakfast a few weeks prior. Oh how she had laughed at her cleverness and oh how you had laughed at her adorableness.

_Whatever_, you want to be pissed at Maura for dragging you to counseling. Damn the stupid furry animals for making you smile.

Fingers clutch around your painkillers, shaking out a dose and tossing it down with a gulp of coffee as your eyes catch the note on the table with the shrink's address. You pick it up as you take another swig, seeing a larger colorful something on the table beneath the sticky note. Your fingers grab at it even though you know exactly what it is before you pick it up.

_Boston Bus Map._

You grind your teeth together as you flip the brochure open to the map and yep, Maura has indeed highlighted the route you need to take to get to the doctor's office. You flick the map in frustration, throw another gulp of coffee down your throat, and then glare once more at the intended route.

Ha.

_Sweetheart_ indeed.

* * *

The bus is slow and it's making you a meany. You have to bite your tongue twice when the bus takes forever to load and unload a man in a wheelchair. You blame Maura for your sudden inexcusable handicap hatred. Finally you get off at your stop, digging your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, pulling it tight around your body in order to hide the gun and badge. Like you'd go anywhere without it at this point. Like you'd want someone to know a cop is riding the bus.

You locate the building, then the floor and finally the elevator, grateful Maura had the sense to schedule this not through the precinct. When you finally enter the office a receptionist looks up at you before sliding her eyes to the left where you find Maura sitting, knees pressed together, hands on lap, waiting.

"Hi." You approach her and sink onto the couch next to her, your face contorting in brief pain.

"Hi." She leans over to kiss you on the cheek before squeezing your knee. "Find it okay?"

You glare at her and her light tone. "Yeah the bus was fantastic."

Maura just smiles at you and tells you she's glad. Sometimes you have a hard time deciphering if she gets your sarcasm and ignores it or is blindly aloof.

"Maura Isles and Jane Rizzoli?" A short man appears from a door on the other side of the room, reading from a folder clutched between his fingers.

"Yes doctor, that's us." Maura rises and you immediately follow, grabbing at your side when pain shoots through your side.

"Fuck." You curse it out quietly but in the dead silent room, everyone hears. You grit your teeth as you pause for a second, close your eyes and then get your pain threshold under control. When you open them, Maura has her arm wrapped around your back, hand holding your own pressed against your incision.

You are just about to lighten the mood with a joke about wishing you'd taken more Vicodin since it would help the physical pain and maybe calm your attitude but before you can the doctor is ushering you both inside the doors.

"I'm Doctor Crew but please call me Richard." The balding man extends his hand to your girlfriend.

"Doctor Isles. Maura." She smiles at him as they shake secret doctor handshakes before he turns his hand to you.

You grab at it and then return it to him almost immediately. "Jane." You are grinning like an idiot and you see the confusion wash over his face but he just gestures for you both to take a seat on the couch across from his chair.

You are about to lower yourself when his voice stops you. "Are you armed Detective?"

Your eyes glance down at your waist where you weapon is slung, badge next to it on your washed out jeans. "Ah, yeah. I am a cop."

You look at Maura who is already sitting, looking up at you expectantly.

Richard walks to one side of the room and opens a lockbox. "Would you mind putting it in here for the session. Weapons aren't really conducive to open discussion."

You roll your eyes but walk over to him before unholstering your gun. You pull out the clip, slide it back once more to make sure it isn't loaded and then set both pieces into his stupid box. "You should know I would never shoot Maura no matter how mad I got." You say it cheekily, sorta smirking in Maura's direction as you make your way back to her.

"It isn't Maura I was worried about." Ricky boy decides obviously that this is how you all should start the session.

"Yeah." Maura mutters it under her breath as you finally sit down, your thigh a few inches from her's.

Your eyes flit from your girlfriend to the doctor, eyebrows raised. "Oh, I wouldn't shoot you either."

He raises his eyebrows right back at you. "Also not who I was worried about."

Maura mutters her agreement once more and you look between the two of them as you mind does the math. "Jesus." You roll your eyes at that and sink further into the sofa, arms crossed as you glare between the two of them.

Silence lingers for a moment as you realize that obviously this man has been briefed, probably by your _sweetheart_ of a girlfriend, about her reasons for your attendance.

"Jane, would you like to start? Talk about why you're here?" The shrink's voice breaks through your thoughts. You look at him sitting there, legs crossed, hands folded on his knee and you start laughing. You know you shouldn't, it isn't professional at all but the whole thing is ridiculous. It's a lost cause. No matter what you say you will look like an asshole and Maura will look like an angel. It's the story of your freakin life because well, you can be an asshole.

"Not really Richy." You say it before you can censor yourself at calling him a nickname you decided on. He just nods his head at you and you can't help but laugh some more. Finally you decide to just fill them in. You wave your hand around the room to indicate everyone present.

"Its just ridiculous. Us, here. Maura and I have only been dating for two months." You hold your fingers up so he doesn't get lost. "And yeah I had an accident but my job is risky, Maura knows that. And well, no offense but I don't do shrinks."

You feel Maura sink lower into the sofa and it's almost enough to make you retreat, pull her close and apologize since wounded Maura is your certain downfall.

"Tell me more about that last part." Richard nods at you but not before he takes in how you face went all gentle when looking at Maura.

"About the shrink part?"

"Yes, that part."

"Well, it's just." You pause because surely he sees the humor. His face stays blank except for a slight look of expectancy for your next words. You look at Maura who has lifted her chin and is now looking at you with a little more fight. "Oh, come on. It's funny." You gesture at the therapist but he just continues to wait, Maura mimicking his face.

You sigh when it becomes clear they intend for you to spell it out. "No offense doc but I don't really think you are going to be able to understand anything about us." You gesture between you and Maura, catching Maura's raised eyebrow. "I mean. Really?"

Beat. Pause.

Well that's all the go ahead you really need, isn't it?

"Dick-" You make certain to keep the bite out of your tone when you give him yet another nickname but that doesn't stop you from adding any with the rest of your statement. "It doesn't seem likely that you will understand anything about a relationship between two women or any scenario about our jobs, which requires me to carry a weapon."

"Jane!" Maura spins her body to face yours, shock written all over her features. She immediately launches into an apology directed towards the good doctor. He smiles at her and waves her words away before turning back to you.

"So you are feeling concerned with a man listening to your thoughts about your lesbian relationship and the fact that you got shot while on the job?" His voice is smooth, kind. It's calculated and professional. It's annoying.

"Well, yeah." The wind has been taken out of you sails for a moment as you answer honestly. Because come on! A man name Dick! He didn't even take to the bait.

You hear Maura swallow next to you before she speaks up. "Try Jane, for me? Just try, please."

You peek at her from your slouchy arm-crossed position on the couch. She has the whole doe eye thing going, the look that just about kills you into doing anything she wants. You sigh and then nod your head at her. "Fine."

Dicky decides to take another approach. "Maura why don't you tell us why you are here?"

Maura holds your glance for a moment longer before turning back towards the doctor. "I'm worried, about Jane." She rushes on out of habit and fear of you interrupting her. "Actually I guess I'm most worried about Jane and I. Last night when I brought up the idea of counseling with her, it felt as if-"

"Yeah, let's talk about that first!" You sit up a little bit. "Is it a problem that she makes therapy appointments without asking me about it first?" You interrupt her because you can feel the conversation slipping towards your bullet hole, something you are desperate not to talk about with this man.

"Oh come on Jane!" Finally a little fire from Maura. "I asked, you came, whatever."

Normally you'd make fun of her using such a _low-class_ word but not today. "No not _whatever_ Maur. You always do this! You bring things up when I'm in no position to fight back or have an opinion. You are the master of getting your way at my expense!"

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

You and Maura sound like five year old girls. You bite your tongue so not to stick it out at her.

Dick just sits and watches.

"Jane, you could have said no. I'm not your mother."

"Exactly!" You point at her to emphasize your point. "I have no problem saying no to Ma. And it isn't what you asked, it's how you asked it!"

"What does that mean?" She raises her arms in defeat, implying you make no sense.

But you do, you make perfect sense. "I was half naked! Wet! And bent over a sink, Maura!"

You both go silent at that as Maura's eyes bug out. You both snap your heads in Dick's direction. He's still easy breezy composed. You point your finger at him this time. "Not what it sounds like." And then you round back on Maura.

But she beats you to it. "Jane just admit it. You overreacted to my concern and kind request that we talk about it with a neutral person! And you overreacted because you were sexually frustrated."

"Maura!" This time it's your eyes that bug out but Maura just turns to Dick and fills him in.

"Ever sense Jane got hurt we haven't been able to make love sense the sensation and physical response of her impending climax tends to cause too much pain."

"MAURA!"

"Yes Jane?" She so knows what she's doing.

"That's private!" This time it definitely comes out a growl.

"You want to talk about something else?"

You should see it coming, you should but you don't. "Yes!"

"Okay, how about why you shot yourself."

And there it is.

Beat. Pause.

You weigh the options of talking about your bullet hole and talking about your sex life or lack of one at this moment. The latter loses. Hard.

"Fine." You huff.

"Fine." She huffs back.

And then silence. You turn to the man since _his_ silence is annoying.

"Okay." His tone is exactly the same as it has been the whole entire time, even when you called him Dick.

Neither of you take his lead but you can see Maura's chest rise and fall more rapidly than normal, pumped slightly from your battle. The silence stretches to almost uncomfortable when Richard attempts to again ease you into conversation.

"Jane, how does it feel when Maura voices her concern from the accident?"

You clench your hands together, tight as you can until you feel the now dull sensations from the scars there. You close your eyes briefly to will away the reality that a lot of you is scarred. Damaged. People always say emotional trauma is worse than physical trauma, that it lasts and lingers while your body is capable of healing. No one ever talks about the scars though. The fact that you carry a part of your pain on your sleeve, the whole world privy to it. Anyone could point at your hands and say, _there- right there- that's where her pain is_. It makes you feel vulnerable, violated not just by the man who made those scars but by every stranger who sees them without your permission.

You take a breath and try to be good for Maura. "It makes me feel bad. Vulnerable. Like a kid. Like she will get tired of it and want to find something new, someone new." There. That's true.

"Oh Jane." Maura breathes it out next to you and her voice drags you to glance up at her before dropping your gaze and instantly inspecting your fingernails.

She continues after she pauses for a moment, you name hanging in the air. "When you let me be concerned, I feel needed. Content. I feel like I have something to give to you that nobody else can."

You glance up at her again to see if she's bullshitting you. She isn't.

"Okay." You whisper it out as you pull your hair off to the side, twisting it around your wrist once and then dropping it over your shoulder. "But you have to promise me Maura that if it- I, become too much that you'll say something long before it's too late. If I'm going to try not being Wonder Woman, than you have to tell me if I'm doing it wrong."

You look at her now, really look at her, will her to really get it. Get that this is more than just about your current injury. Your voice drops even lower as you finish. "I can't mess you up, okay? This is it for me. Me and you." You gesture between the two of you so she has zero doubts about your intentions. "I can't mess this up."

You watch her face soften, head tilting. The she nods not really having to say anything else because she too gets it, oh how she gets it. "Well the first thing you can do is promise to never shoot yourself again." Her voice is a little lighter, trying to be casual but still letting you know that at some point it needs to be said.

"Right." You pull on a few loose strands of hair around your face.

"Do you want to talk about that now, Jane?" His voice jars you for a moment, his presence almost completely forgotten. You wonder briefly if him being here is what is allowing for your conversation with Maura to happen. You shake away that thought because maybe it's true. Maybe it took a session for you to be honest and upfront. Maybe it took a session for Maura to feel like you understand the seriousness of her fears. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"You don't have to, Jane. We can talk about it next time." Maura's all soft and gentle as she gives you the option but it doesn't stop you from forcing your head up, eye wide at her words.

"Next time?" Because sure this is important but next time? You really really rather you never have to have a next time.

"Try not to sound too thrilled." Maura dead pans it from her side of the room.

"Come on now! Maura, I said I felt vulnerable, isn't that enough?" You can hear yourself as you're talking. You can hear how lame and uninterested you sound about the overall happiness of your relationship. But Maura is making you sacrifice just too damn much. If the boys back at headquarters get wind of this, the couple's counseling, you're screwed. Badly.

"So you were just saying whatever you wanted in order to be done with this. Is that it?" Maura wipes her hands together, as if she's dusting them off like she believes that's how you're viewing the issue at hand.

"No." You make sure your voice is calculated, even, trying really hard not to growl it at her. "Let's talk about it."

Maura nods at you and then turns back to face the doctor. He looks at her and then breaks the silence.

"Maura maybe you should start. Why don't you tell me what happened that day."

Maura launches right in. Of course she does. She isn't the one with a hole in her torso. Yet, part of it is still her story to tell so you fight off the urge to wave your hand, giving her the go ahead and settle for rolling your eyes since if you are doing this? You sure as hell aren't going to make it easy breezy for her.

"I arrived at the scene of the crime approximately six minutes before Jane did. The victim was Daniel Clark. My initial assessment of him showed-"

"Maur- give him the short version."

She looks at you, fire behind her eyes. "Why don't you just tell it then Jane."

"Fine! I will." Again with the five year old attitude. Rich just regards both of you and your interaction in silence. He's annoying you yet again.

"A cop went dirty. And we didn't know. The bad guys killed the only witness in the case, shot my brother, killed and injured a lot of cops, and then took me hostage in hopes of getting out alive. Maura was in the morgue with my brother, good guys were surrounding the building and then the bad guy had me out on the steps of the precinct. There was no way a snipper could get a clean shot with me pressed up against him so I forced his gun into my stomach and pulled the trigger in hopes that I would survive and he would not."

Your story lingers and you wonder if your passive tone in recounting that day means something. When nobody says anything, you state the obvious.

"It worked."

"It worked up until you almost died Jane. Up until your heart stopped. Up until every medical personnel in that entire hospital had their turn compressing your chest! It worked until I almost lost you! It worked until you almost ruined my life."

Maura's exaggeration clues you in. This is a big deal. Whether it's just simply a big deal or only a big deal to her, doesn't really matter at this point. Your girlfriend is a scientist. She is all about accuracy and precision. She refuses to do guesswork; theories are not her forte. She is unbelievably unshakeable. Crisis after crisis, she uses her knowledge of science to fight her way out. She relies on you to read people, deal with the emotions, have a gut feeling. You fight crime your individual ways and often your methods leak out into your personal lives. But right now, Maura is seeping into your side. The emotional side, the exaggeration side, the feeling side. And it screams how important this is to her. She has abandoned her science when it comes to you. Otherwise it would be simple. You were shot. The bullet shredded your insides. The surgeon repaired. You survived. Done, done and done.

You blink at her outburst as all the pieces come together. You've been so wrapped up in your thoughts, your emotions, your refusal to become another victim that you forgot all about Maura. Well, that's not completely true. With Hoyt, you held yourself together. Barely, but here you are. And you believe mostly it had to do with the fact that you were able to tie yourself off. You took a little break from the world and you compartmentalized enough to carry on. Part of what made it doable was that you were alone. That isn't a play on sympathy, that is simply fact. You locked yourself away from your family because you wanted to, you needed to. And because there weren't a lot of sympathetic looks, casual and caring touches, gestures of kindness, you were able to just silence parts of the experience and move on.

Since Maura, you've become increasingly aware that your method of survival has been shot to hell. You wouldn't push her away, you couldn't. And therefore you'd have to deal with her presence, her sweet, safe presence. And in all likelihood it would destroy you. If you had Maura when Hoyt had you, you might not have been able to come out of it. Or at least not with as much of your old self as you managed. You can't imagine staying strong, put together, not crumbling or letting yourself soak in the horror and fear of Hoyt's torture if you had Maura's warm body curled around yours every night.

Everything about Maura screams futures and happy. She makes you want to be better. She makes you feel oddly human and girly. Her holding and soothing you would force emotion out of you that might be impossible to pull back.

And when Marino took you with the clear intention of getting off those steps with a gun and your body as cover, your mind went to the fucks. Before when Hoyt took you, your mind was so present, so aware of the physical pain and the promise of more. You hadn't thought about life after, if you survived. You hadn't thought about your career or your family or Korsak. You had only thought about the fact that you were splayed in front of a monster, hands open and wounded in a similar fashion to your god.

With Marino it was different. You weren't hit over the head, blacked out only to wake to the promise of slow death. With Marino you still had time before he did whatever killers do to hostages they don't really need anymore. And this time your mind did wander. And it wandered to just one thing. If Marino took you and made you a victim again, and if you survived, you would fall apart in Maura's arms. And Maura didn't deserve it. Maura deserved really good things. Maura deserved lots of laughing and big smiles. Maura deserved marriage and babies and growing old with lots of light. You couldn't put the darkness that you would become, if you were tortured, into her.

It never once occurred to you that if you had miscalculated that trigger point that Maura wouldn't have happy you, wouldn't have destroyed you either. You are still unsure why Maura is as in love with you as you are with her, but you believe her when she says it and shows it. You imagine life without a Maura. And it's a series of shots that flash through your mind.

No Maura stomach to use as your personal pillow.

No Maura and her lazy morning girl-smile when you wake.

No Maura smell to drown your senses when she perches herself on your desk at work.

No Maura delight when she tries your favorite childhood lunches.

No secrets whispered in the dead of night against hot skin, Maura.

No aging, beautiful laugh lines on her face that you put there year after year, Maura.

No promises of vows, Maura.

No wide smiles at little miniature Mauras running throughout your backyard, Maura.

No foot stomping, clock checking, phone calling when said tiny Mauras grow up and miss curfew, Maura.

No Maura.

Screw devastated and sad, drowning and disappearing Maura. You would take whatever version of her you could.

"Oh." It comes out of your mouth after your entire life minus Maura flashes in front of you. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Maura watches your eyes. You watch hers. For the first time you consider how Maura would feel if you were dead. It must be something similar to how you feel right now with the idea of no her so fresh in your mind. Her expression fades until both your faces are blank. It's all in your eyes. They tell her everything. They tell her that you get it. That you've never been this in love before and how you have no reference. How this is new. And again, that you get it. That for there to be a her, there has to be a you. And for there to be a you, there has to be a her.

You smile to yourself, tugging her own smile up as well.

"I guess eight weeks is wrong, huh?" You say it to her before realizing that you didn't give her enough context to decipher your meaning.

Maura however follows your silent thoughts. "It's been longer than eight weeks, yes."

Because everything you're feeling isn't conducive to an eight week relationship. It probably isn't conducive to most eight year relationships either. You decide to screw labels. You never liked them anyways. Timelines don't really hold a lot of power outside of a homicide case anyways. You love Maura. You've been in her life, and her in yours, in a way only a partner can be for much longer than eight dumb weeks.

"Can we go home now?" You place your hand, palm up, scars be damned, on the sofa cushion between the two of you.

"Yes." She tucks her hand into yours and you start to stand with her right behind you when you hear a throat being cleared.

You turn to the therapist, once again startled at his presence.

"Richard, I'm sorry I forget you were here."

He stares at both of you for a hard second before also standing, his face for the first time in the last hour displays some sort of emotion. Confusion. Lots of confusion.

"Don't forget your weapon Jane."

You nod at Maura as the man finally stops looking at the two of you. He walks over to his lock box and clicks in the code before you reach inside. You slide the clip back inside, clicking everything into place before situating it back on your hip.

"So should we schedule another time to meet next week?" Richard says it because he can't read your eyes, he can't read Maura's. He wasn't aware of the silent conversation that just transpired.

You are almost out of the door when he asks and Maura stops, her fingers still intertwined with yours. "No, that will be all. Thank you doctor."

And with that the two of you are out of his office. Maura effortlessly pulls her wallet out of her purse and presses a check onto the counter of the receptionist's desk. Your memory goes back to last night when you had pointed at her, cling-wrap your only armor and demanded she be the one to pay.

Your laughter catches the breeze as you both exit the building, hers following. The wind has picked up and it splashes your hair across your face. You look over your shoulder to find Maura's doing the same. She laughs to herself as she tries to clear it with her free hand. You brush one palm over her forehead to hold back her curls before tugging her to you.

Maura steps into your body so suddenly and surely that you smile against her lips first, kiss her second.

You believe, have always believed, that human beings are incapable of ever really believing that their life is at an end. Gun to your head, pills in your throat, cancer in your bones, doesn't matter- everyone hopes for a miracle.

That girl that screams at the gunman who has invaded her school, begs for her life even after witnessing her best friend crumple over and drop. She has seen the end, it has passed right over her eyes, and she knows that this is how her story goes. _Yet_, she still begs.

That boy who believes he has nothing left to live for shakes out those pills into his trembling hand. And he is convinced that life no longer suits him, that something has to be better than this. _Yet_ you wonder what he really thinks once those little pills have slid past his throat.

The man who has been given six weeks to live, seems to make his peace. He takes that trip to Nepal that he and his wife have been imagining forever. He tells his grown children that he loves them, he figures out his will, he makes sure his wife knows everything she needs to know in order to take care of herself. _Yet_ at night, sometimes she shifts in her sleep, her eyes peaking open to find him on his knees, hands clasped together as he prays. Oh, how he prays.

You have to believe that it is not in human nature to ever be convinced that the game is over.

You have to believe that human beings, yourself included, never really think this is it until it actually is.

But now you know this. It doesn't make you invincible.

And yes, you will keep living with the upmost regard for life. You will fight and scratch your way to safety every single time with everything you've got. But now a new thought lingers. Sometimes it might not turn out okay. And if the stakes are high enough to take that risk, say in order to save another's life, than you will take it. You are a cop after all. But some risks are no longer worth it. And maybe your career will be less because of it.

It dawns on you that it would be okay if it were.

It isn't just you anymore. It's Maura. It's you and Maura. You knew, even before this, if bullets were sprayed and Maura was near you that without a blink of a thought you would leap for her. But this is new ground. This is about the fact that Maura won't get over it if you die. Maura won't make it. It makes you feel oddly at peace. You are in this together. You will be more careful. You will come home. You will be there to watch her laugh lines etch permanently into her features. You will be there for all it. You will because she needs it. And you, you need it too.


End file.
